


Homecoming

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Genital Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock has finished destroying Moriarty's net and is on the run. He is hurt and needs his brother's help. He returns badly injured but found that John isn't living at Baker Street anymore.What had happened to John while Sherlock was gone?





	1. Difficulties

**Author's Note:**

> Don't start reading this if you love Mary.

Sherlock stood in the woods close to Belgrade and waited. Actually, he was hiding and breathed rather raggedly through half-open lips. He listened and didn’t dare moving because he knew they were still after him. Even though he had killed almost the whole gang, there were still two after him. He hadn’t managed to get to them. Now it was too late and too dangerous. He was wounded and almost done. His strength was gone because he had lost a lot of blood and he could barely move anymore. That’s why he had called his brother and asked for help. He needed to get out. He needed to get home. He needed to get home to John. He was lost without him. He had had no idea that he would miss him so much. There wasn’t a single day he hadn’t thought of him. Sometimes he had even talked to him, asked for his guidance and had heard his voice when he had done something a bit not good.  
His blood pulsed and his forehead hurt. He felt the blood running out of the cut on his stomach. He pressed a torn shirt on the wound and hoped his brother would be quick enough.  
Suddenly he was able to hear the helicopter and he looked up into the sky. There he was; unmarked and black, just as his bloody cars. Sherlock smiled.  
Then there were the voices. Serbian voices and they were getting closer.  
“Fuck!” Sherlock swore. It reminded him of John who had done it a lot. He turned around and saw the shadows running through the trees. They were too close for comfort. The helicopter touched down and the voices became louder. He started to move forward with his head between his shoulders. The blades caused his long hair to fly all over his face and he had to hold it back.  
The door was pushed open from the inside and a soldier held out his hand to pull him up. Suddenly there was gunfire and bullets buzzed by. Another soldier fired over Sherlock’s head and he almost stumbled but managed to grab the hand in front of him. The soldier forcefully pulled and Sherlock almost blacked out due to the pain. Everything became dark for two seconds but he got pulled inside. He still hung out of the door when the helicopter took off and disappeared.  
Sherlock panted and looked around. He felt weak, so weak. John appeared before his eyes and said:  
“Please God, let me live.” Sherlock closed his eyes and lost his consciousness.

***

He woke and was still flying. He woke because someone poked into his wound. His stomach was on fire and he roughly groaned. The soldier was holding up a med-kit and looked into his eyes.  
“Don’t speak. Don’t move. Just drink this.” He lifted up his head and held a bottle between his lips. Sherlock greedily drank and it was the best he ever had. He felt a bit better.  
Then he got pricked and was stitched up. He got more to drink and tried to catch his eyes. The soldier looked at him and took his hand to feel his pulse.  
“Yes, we shot them. You are badly injured and there will be a beautiful scar halfway over your stomach. You will not die. How long haven’t you been eating or drinking?” Sherlock tried to shrug but it hurt. He frowned but managed to reply.  
“Four days. Two days.” The soldier nodded.  
“Yes, I thought so. Go ahead then.” He handed him another bottle of water and a granola bar. He devoured everything and fell asleep.

***

Sherlock woke because his hand felt so hot. Why did his hand feel so hot? He yet wasn’t able to open his eyes but he used his fingers, nose and ears to check his surroundings.  
His fingers were held in a vice-like grip. Skin on skin. The other person's skin made it feel hot. He smelled expensive cologne. He knew that cologne. He also knew the smell of expensive fabric. But then he heard a soft crying, a very quiet sobbing.  
At first, he thought it was his brother. But why would he cry?  
He forced his eyes to open and blinked several times. He saw his brother. It had been him. And he was crying. Sherlock tried to make a noise and pull his hand back.  
Mycroft’s head shot up and his eyes widened. He held him even tighter which made Sherlock groan a bit and he let go at once. Instead he moved the hair off his forehead and smiled a little bit.  
Sherlock frowned. If his brother was here and he was in a nice hospital bed, why wasn’t John here? He was in England now, that much he was sure of. So what?  
“Sherl…” Mycroft’s voice was rough and his nose was clotted. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was blotchy all over. Obviously, he had been crying; but why for him? Why in God’s name would he do such a thing? Sherlock frowned even more.  
“Please say something? Sherlock, please?” He still held his hand and now gently moved his fingers over his hand. Sherlock was reminded of his childhood and also the times in drug dens when his brother had been there for him.  
“Myc …” It seemed to be enough because the sun went up on his brother’s face and his eyes shone.  
“Here, drink this. You need to drink.” He was lifted up and he made him drink water. Then Sherlock tried to lift up the duvet to see the scar but he was too weak to do so. It was frustrating and he accusingly looked at his older brother.  
“I thought I was too late …” He started to cry again and sat down. Sherlock was a bit scared by now. Had his injury been that serious? Sherlock tried to clear his throat and managed to speak quietly.  
“Myc, I am alive and right here. Stop that right now. You are frightening me.” It made him look up and smile a bit at least.  
“Would you like to eat something? I am allowed to get you everything you want.” Sherlock was hungry. Not that he would admit this, of course.  
“Fish and chips. Ice-cream.” Expectantly he looked at his brother who just nodded and stood.  
“I’ll be right back.” Sherlock sighed when the door was closed. He felt rather fine but that was because of the drugs which kept dripping into his body from the bag hanging over his head.  
It took Mycroft only a few minutes until the food was delivered and it smelled delicious. Sherlock licked over his parched lips. Mycroft helped him to sit up. It stung but he made it. He was hungry. He wasn’t able to hold his fork and knife so he used his fingers. He managed the small plastic spoon for the ice-cream though.  
When he was done, he felt fantastic. He looked at his brother and smiled.  
“Thanks, Myc.” Then he fell asleep. Mycroft wiped his face, hands and fingers clean. Then he just sat there and kept looking at his younger sibling.

***

Sherlock dreamt again. He dreamt of John. He dreamt about John’s face when coming back home. Thinking and dreaming of John had helped him through the long two years when he destroyed Moriarty’s network around the world. And now that he was done, he only wanted to go home. He needed John. He needed his blogger, his caretaker.  
He also missed his wonderful bed in Baker Street. He missed his skull and he missed the violin. But most of all he missed John.  
His brain stumbled. Again, he asked himself why John wasn’t here. Did he even know he was back? Did Mycroft tell him? Whom else did he tell he was back? Or did he tell no one at all?  
Sherlock woke up with a frown all over his face. His eyes fell on Mycroft who had been fallen asleep with his head on his arms at the table. Sherlock looked around. No one else was here. He sighed.  
“Myc?” At once his brother woke and hurried to his side. Well, he more swayed.  
“What is it, Sherlock? What do you need?” Sherlock seriously looked up at him.  
“John. I need John. Where is he? What happened?” Now Mycroft exhaled and avoided his eyes. Then he cleared his throat.  
“Mycroft?” Sherlock insisted and tried to touch him. Very carefully Mycroft took his hand between his own.  
“I haven’t yet contacted Dr Watson.” Sherlock’s eyes widened.  
“Why not?” He asked it very quietly. Mycroft carefully cleared his throat and caressed his brother’s hand.  
“Well, firstly Dr Watson doesn’t live at Baker Street anymore. Secondly he is engaged and will be married sooner or later.” Sherlock stared at his brother. He was stunned and needed a bit until he was able to reply.  
“But why … When did that happen? I …” He shook his head. Then he started to cry.

***

Mycroft looked at Sherlock and felt so sad. He had tried to avoid the subject but he should have known better. He sat on the bed’s edge and tenderly embraced Sherlock. They sat like this for quite some time and Mycroft’s shirt was soaked with tears.  
“Come on, baby-brother, blow your nose and make yourself presentable. Dr Hooper will be seeing you soon.” Now Sherlock looked up again.  
“I am not dead. Yet.” But he blew his nose and sat up against a bunch of pillows. Right when he was settled it knocked on the door and both men looked up. The door was opened and there was Dr Hooper. A smile was on her face.  
“There you are, Sherlock. I am so glad to finally see you again.” She hurried to his side and took his other hand between her small ones.  
“Molly.” He wasn’t able to say more. Instead he pressed his lips together and looked away.  
“What is it? Do you hurt so much?” Only then he looked into her eyes.  
“Only here.” He pulled his hand free and placed it on his heart.  
“Oh, I see. John. Well.” She looked away, too.  
“Have you seen him? Her? When did he move out? What happened? Why?” He started to pant and was close to hyperventilation.  
“Stop it, little brother. Please come down.” Sherlock really tried but it took some time to do so. Molly looked worried.  
“Listen, Sherlock. John had lost all hope. He was close to committing suicide. He looked horrid. He didn’t eat or sleep but worked up to sixty hours a week. And then he met her. Mary.”  
“Every single fucking day I thought of him, talked to him, dreamt of him. And he bloody left me!”  
“You know that’s not true, Sherlock.” Mycroft said and Sherlock snorted.  
“So, have you seen him lately?” Sherlock looked at Molly.  
“Yes, I have.”  
“What did you talk about? Did he mention me? Did he miss me?” Sherlock curiously asked.  
“We always talked about you. He used to read his blog, your adventures together. He just couldn’t stay at Baker Street; it would have destroyed him. He said you had saved him when moving in together. And when you were gone, he went back to square one. And what could I have done? I couldn’t have told him the truth, could I?” Molly looked from Sherlock to Mycroft and back.  
“Of course, you couldn’t, Dr Hooper. We had an agreement.” Mycroft said.  
“How long do I have to stay here?” Molly took his file from the wall and studied it for several minutes.  
“You have been stitched and the scar is long and a bit infected. I think you have to stay at least another four days.”  
“Four days?” Sherlock looked shocked. Molly seriously nodded.  
“Yes, four days if you behave well and do what the doctor tells you.” Sherlock gnawed on his lips.  
“Will you come and see me?” He sounded a bit desperate.  
“If you want me to?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, please. But don’t talk to anyone about me being back. I want to do it myself.” Their eyes met.  
“But …” Sherlock slowly shook his head.  
“No, Molly. Please?” She bit into her lower lip but finally nodded.  
“OK, as you wish. Would you like me to bring something for you?” Now he smiled.  
“I’d like to have some books, a tablet and nosh.” Molly looked at Mycroft for confirmation and he just nodded.  
“OK, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. See you!” She gave him a careful hug and then left.  
“You know, I could have brought you some things?” Mycroft sounded a bit annoyed.  
“Brother-dear, I know you have spent way too much time in here already. I will survive and you may go back into the Diogenes and dry your tears.” Both men looked at each other and smiled. Finally, Mycroft nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve a mobile.  
“Here, this is secure. If you need anything, I’ll be providing it.” He placed it on the table by his bed.  
“Thank you, Myc.”  
Suddenly the door burst open and Lestrade dashed inside.  
“Myc, what happened to you? Are you …” Then he saw Sherlock in bed and his eyes widened, his mouth stood open.  
“Please close the door, Gregory.” Mycroft said quietly and moved up to him. Sherlock looked at Lestrade and wondered why he was here if no one told him a word.  
“What ...?” Lestrade looked at Myc and checked his body for injuries. Then he looked at Sherlock and moved closer.  
“Oh, you fucking prick …” Suddenly he rushed forward and hugged him carefully.  
“Did you know?” Mycroft avoided his eyes.  
“Well, of course you knew. Why do I even ask?”  
“Greg, it was important.” Sherlock quietly said but Mycroft shook his head.  
“No, it was for your safety. Your life was in danger and so was John’s and Mrs Hudson’s. That’s why he had to jump. That’s why I had him disappear. Don’t make a fuss, love.”  
“Love?” Sherlock almost squeaked and made Greg grin.  
“Yes. We have been spending a lot of time together after you were dead. It somehow happened.” Greg shrugged and Mycroft even blushed a rosy shade.  
“Huh.” Sherlock made a noise which could mean a lot.  
“OK, I need to go back now that I know you are OK. When I asked Anthea where to find you, she just told me you were in hospital. I was worried.” He pecked a kiss on Myc’s cheek and turned around to face Sherlock again.  
“I’d like to come back tomorrow, if you like?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Please do so. Don’t talk to John.”  
“As you wish, Sherlock.” Then he left again obviously more relaxed than before. The brothers looked at each other.  
“I need to go and check into the office, Sherlock. You’ve got the mobile if you need anything. Please think about how to approach John.”  
“First I need to go home. Then I can think.” Mycroft raised a brow.  
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Sherlock raised a brow, too.  
“Like what?” Sherlock innocently asked.  
“Like going home tomorrow. Please stay in hospital until you are good to leave. Just please?” Sherlock sighed.  
“Hm.” Mycroft ruffled his hair.  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.” Sherlock wildly yawned making Mycroft smile.  
“I am glad you made it. In fact, I am very, very happy.”  
“Please go now.” But Sherlock smiled saying so.

***

As soon as he was alone in his comfortable first-class hospital-room Sherlock started to plan how to get John back. He regretted that he never had the guts to tell him the truth. He never told him about the feelings he had for him. Then it was too late and the only thing left he could do was protecting John and jump.  
Only John never knew. And how would he react now that Sherlock was back? Would he still like him? At least a little bit?  
How could he make his fiancée go away? He desperately needed a computer to research her. He decided he needed to get home as soon as possible. That’s why he took all the meds the nurses brought him, drank a lot and ate everything, too. He was well behaved and soon enough felt much better.  
Molly returned the next morning and brought him nosh and a tablet his brother had provided and set up. Sherlock was all happy.  
Lestrade returned, too, in the early afternoon and brought cake and fags. Sherlock was still happy. Everything would work out; he was rather convinced by now. They all would help him getting John back. He would make them.  
Sherlock managed the four days he still had to stay in hospital. He was clever enough to behave and when Mycroft came and picked him up, he felt almost a bit high. His brother brought clothes for him, too, and Sherlock at once felt much better.  
He looked into the mirror and saw his too thin body clad in his typical clothes. His eating habits didn't get better while being away chasing the criminals of Moriarty's network. His clothes hung over his limbs way too loose and even he thought by now that he needed to eat more. Well, he would make John do it, feed him up again.  
He rode home with Mycroft in the back of his car.  
“I had your flat cleaned and warned Mrs Hudson. She knows that something will happen but not what. Your fridge is stocked even though I am convinced she will fuss over you.”  
“Thank you, Myc. I do appreciate it.” Mycroft rummaged in his bag.  
“This is Mary Morstan’s file, John’s fiancée. I know you want it; it will save you time. Just read it.” Sherlock smiled and took it.  
The car stopped at the curb in front of 221B and they left the car moving over to the entrance. Sherlock’s eyes rested on the food being displayed behind Speedy’s window and unconsciously licked his lips. Mycroft used a key to open the door and they stepped inside. Mycroft handed the keys back to Sherlock when the door to Mrs Hudson’s apartment was opened and the landlady appeared. Sherlock moved out of the shadows in the hallway and more into the light. Mrs Hudson shrieked and covered her face; but only for seconds. Then she rushed over to Sherlock and hugged him. Sherlock lowered almost his whole body and hugged her back.  
She let go and looked up.  
“You have a lot to explain, young man. Get up and into your flat. I will bring tea and something to eat.” She looked at Mycroft.  
“You, too. I made a cake.” Both men smiled and Sherlock slowly moved upstairs. He carefully used the stairs because it was still quite painful.  
He opened the door upstairs and entered his flat. He looked around and found everything as he had left it. John hadn’t changed anything.  
Mycroft made him sit in his armchair and sat down, too. He sat in John’s armchair and it hurt Sherlock’s heart. Mrs Hudson brought tea, cookies and cake and Sherlock even ate a lot. She was surprised but happy. She talked and talked and Sherlock listened and nodded. Mycroft had several pieces of cake. Finally, she left all happy.  
He was exhausted and suddenly Mycroft stood by his side. He hadn’t seen him and looked up.  
“Come on, you need to rest now. I’ll help you.” Sherlock didn’t resist when Mycroft shoved him into his bedroom and undressed him. He even relaxed when he tugged him in. Sherlock smelled the fresh linens. Everything had been prepared for him and he was really grateful for everything his brother had done for him.  
Mycroft tenderly moved his hair off his face.  
“Sleep now. You are safe.” Sherlock looked and sent him a tired smile. Then he slept.  
Mycroft sighed. He closed the door behind him and told Mrs Hudson he was leaving and that Sherlock was alone. She promised to look after him the next morning.

***

Mycroft almost fell asleep during his ride home. His driver opened the door for him. Mycroft swayed up the five stairs. The door was opened from the inside and Mycroft looked up being very much surprised.  
“Your driver called me in advance. Don’t be angry with him. He meant well.” And he pulled him inside nodding to said driver.  
“I can’t tell how glad I am you are here.” He leant against Greg and closed his eyes.  
“I love you, too. Now get off your shoes and posh stuff. We are getting comfy now. I have made dinner. I will give you a drink now. And you will go to bed after dinner.” Mycroft looked at him and produced a very Sherlock like pout.  
“Don’t patronise me, Gregory.” Greg raised a brow.  
“I do what’s needed. So, shut up.” Mycroft muttered something nasty but gave in. He moved upstairs and dressed into pyjamas, socks and a long-sleeved tee which already had been laid out on his bed. Back downstairs he was handed his whiskey and sat down in the kitchen. He liked watching Greg in here. It soothed him.  
Soon enough he got his meal. Greg had cooked a simple stew and it was exactly what Mycroft needed on top of the cake. He licked his lips and devoured everything. His eyes drooped. He barely noticed being led upstairs and undressed. He murmured something and tried to hold on to Greg.  
“I’ll be right with you. Hush …” He pulled the duvet up and Mycroft slept. Greg watched him for a bit but he didn’t move. Only then he sighed and rubbed over his eyes.  
“Damn the Holmes brothers …” He muttered things a bit not good and went downstairs to clean up a bit. About an hour later he went to sleep, too, and found Mycroft spread all over the bed. He climbed under the duvet and pulled him close. Mycroft relaxed in his arms and moved up close. He folded his long body around Greg who just let him. He fell asleep with Mycroft’s body huddled against his.

***

“Oh, dear ...” Mrs Hudson slowly shook her head looking rather worried. No one had told her to not tell John. She was convinced it was the right thing to call him because he would be the first to know about Sherlock’s return anyway. So, the first thing she did when being downstairs again, she called his number with the intention to chat about Sherlock’s return and everything following. The call didn’t last long and when she gently placed down the old-fashioned receiver, she realised she might have made a mistake. But now it was too late.  
Half an hour after she had hung up John dashed into her flat panting. Looking out of tired, wild eyes he leant on her kitchen-table.  
“Where is he?” His voice was rough. His eyes still were red rimmed and he had very dark shades beneath them.  
“Upstairs. Asleep possibly. Hopefully.” He shortly nodded and turned around.  
“John?” He looked over his shoulder.  
“Yes?” She made a step towards him and touched his arm.  
“Please don’t punch him?” That brought half a smile back on his face. She decided not to follow him. Instead she just listened upstairs. She heard him move over her head and open the door to the flat. The door was quietly closed and she tried to listen to the events upstairs.  
John deeply inhaled and exhaled several times. This was definitely fresh; it was definitely Sherlock. He could smell him. His special scent had been ingrained in John’s cells.  
Very slowly he moved up to his bedroom. The door wasn’t closed and he quietly pushed it open. Then he had to lean against the wooden frame. He closed his eyes for several seconds and then looked at him again.  
At once he saw that he had lost more weight than it was healthy for him. He also saw his very long hair, the bruises covering his body. Of course, the git had kicked the blanket off and John was able to see his injury with the bandage over his stomach. John quietly hissed and moved up. Very carefully he had a closer look. He had been taken care of and it was all fine.  
Suddenly Sherlock started to move and his head lolled over the pillow.  
“I had no choice … Please … John … I needed you to be safe … I couldn’t let you die … Please don’t punch me …” Then he only groaned.  
John’s anger floated out of the room. Now he only felt joy that the wonder he had asked for really had come true. Sherlock was alive. However, he had managed to do it, but here he was. A big smile was plastered on John’s face and he sat on the bed. His calloused fingertips moved over Sherlock’s forehead and at once the body beneath him relaxed.  
“John … I did this for you. You would have been killed … God, I missed you so much …” Tears fell from his eyes and John was shocked. What had happened?  
He needed to know but he didn’t want to wake him up right now. Instead he kept moving his hair off his forehead and smiled a bit dumb. Not a second he thought of Mary.

***

Sherlock woke in the middle of the night because he smelled John. What a nice dream. He smiled and opened his eyes. Slowly his head moved to the side and his eyes fell on blond hair; blond hair on top of John’s head which leant against his bed’s headrest.  
Very carefully he reached out and his fingertips touched the hair. What a fancy, realistic dream, he wondered. And suddenly the head moved and he pulled back quickly. He tried to move up against the headrest but he was still stiff and his scar hurt like fuck.  
John shot up when he felt something on his head. His head jerked to the side and his eyes met Sherlock’s. His feelings swirled like a maelstrom but at the end he could only feel the love he had for this man.


	2. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John stays at Baker Street but soon there was someone knocking at their door.

For several minutes both men just stared at each other and didn’t say a single word. The breathing was audible. Sherlock didn’t dare touching John again. John wondered if it was appropriate to hug him because they were in bed.  
“John, I …” Sherlock tried to sit up some more and reach out for him again but pulled a face because his stomach hurt like hell. He bit his lips to stop himself from groaning.  
“It’s all fine. Just be careful and let me help you.” John held him and lifted him up. Again, he thought that he was too easy to lift and move. He needed to take care of him.  
John’s hands burnt on Sherlock’s body and he felt something stir. He held on to his arms when being moved. He grabbed John’s shirt and held on to it.  
“I don’t know what to say …” John looked at him.  
“For now, let’s just say nothing. We can talk tomorrow and you may explain the whole thing to me. And you will have to explain a lot. I am sure you had a damn good reason to do what you have done.” Sherlock’s eyes filled with tears and John couldn’t remember if he had seen him crying before. Possibly not.  
“I had no choice. John, you …” But John put a finger on his lips.  
“Not now. You need to rest. Go to sleep again.” Sherlock’s fingers had clawed into his shirt and wouldn’t let go.  
“Will you stay?” John smiled and helped him back down.  
“Nothing and no one could make me leave again.” Sherlock smiled, too. At once he slept but he kept fisting the t-shirt.  
John didn't take his fingers off. Instead he kept sitting where he was and lightly dozed through the night. He had not a single nightmare.

***

Only after a few hours John woke because he needed the loo. He carefully pulled his shirt from Sherlock’s fingers and left his side. He slowly moved through his former flat and felt like he had never left. He checked through the fridge and cupboards to make sure Sherlock was taken care of. Finally, he brewed tea and sat in his old armchair.  
About two hours later his mobile hummed with a text alert. It was Mary and he raised a brow.  
_“Where are you?”  
MM_  
John started to type several texts but sent none. He had no idea what to tell her. He finished a second mug of tea. He ended up on the sofa beneath a blanket and fell asleep again.  
He slept well into the next morning and woke up because the sun shone directly on his face. Slowly he sat up and rubbed over his eyes. He felt full of energy; he had slept perfectly fine, didn’t suffer from nightmares and wasn’t depressed.  
All of this because Sherlock was back.  
A goofy smile appeared on his face and he slowly stood. He walked over to his bedroom and looked inside. Sherlock was spread all over the bed and he faced the door.  
John just enjoyed watching him for minutes until he slowly woke. He made small noises when he did. Their eyes met.  
“John …” Sherlock croaked it out and held up his hand. John quickly moved and took it. He sat on the mattress and carded through his hair.  
“You need a wash.” Sherlock cast his eyes.  
“I know.” Then he looked up again.  
“I am afraid you could be gone when I am done.” John smiled.  
“I won’t leave you; I promise. Go and shower but don’t forget to tape over your scar. I make you breakfast.”  
“The med-kit in here will be too old. I just have to be careful.” Sherlock already peeled off the bandage.  
“Your brother provided a fresh one in the bathroom. I already found it. Go now and get it. I’ll do it.” Sherlock slowly moved into the bath and returned with the kit. In the meantime, John had washed his hands and donned gloves. He carefully peeled off the bandage and looked at the stitches.  
“It looks fine so far.” He carefully cleaned the wound and wrapped him up.  
“This should do it. Be careful anyway.” He looked at him and Sherlock nodded taking the med-kit back into the bath. Soon enough John heard the water run. He started on making breakfast. He turned around when Sherlock appeared clad in his dressing-gown which was suspiciously closed in the front. It never had been closed.  
“Just in case you are trying to hide anything, I have just seen all your bruises and scars.” John said. Sherlock wouldn’t look at him.  
John saw Sherlock swallow. He had seen parts of his injured body the night before and just a few minutes ago. It had been something he had seen last in Afghanistan.  
“It’s nothing.” Sherlock tried to tie the knot of his dressing-gown even tighter but John stopped him.  
“Don’t. You are stubborn.” Sherlock’s hands fell down. He closed his eyes when John opened the knot and started to move his hands over his body. Suddenly the temperature rose and he started to sweat.  
John being in doctor’s mode didn’t recognise the symptoms. He gave him a once over and then carefully closed the dressing-gown. He looked up at Sherlock who had successfully managed to not get aroused. His blood must have rushed elsewhere.  
“Let’s have breakfast now. Afterwards I want to check you properly. Don’t make a fuss.” John sounded serious.  
“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock smiled and it lightened up John’s whole being. He returned the smile and made him sit. He had finished breakfast and placed a plate with scrambled eggs, toast and sausages in front of Sherlock.  
“Eat, Sherlock. You have lost too much weight.” Sherlock sighed and dug in.  
“I know.” Then he looked up at John who still stood by his side.  
“Won’t you join me? At least with a tea or coffee?”  
“Sure. I made plenty.” They had breakfast together for the first time in two years. Sherlock ate quite a lot again and had the second mug when he started to talk again.  
“Listen, John. Mycroft told me you have moved out. I know you are engaged. But please …” John lifted his hand.  
“I was desperate. You jumped off that roof right in front of me. I grieved for you and I suffered for many months and I almost killed myself. Again. Then I met her, Mary. She helped me a lot. But I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Never.” He didn’t look at him though.  
“I talked to you every day; you know?” Sherlock admitted.  
“So, I was the replacement for your skull?” John smiled a bit lopsided.  
“Of course not!” Sherlock looked shocked.  
“I missed you so much. I regretted every single day that I didn’t admit I had feelings for you. I have feelings for you. John, I …” John stared at him now and swallowed. He had been longing for that man since the day he had met him. And now he told him that he had felt the same? John opened his mouth to answer but right then someone forcefully knocked at the door.  
“John, are you in there? Open the door or I will kick it in!” A woman yelled the threat and both men looked at the door.  
“Is that her?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, that’s her. I’ll better open the door.” Slowly he stood and went to let her inside. Sherlock stood and placed himself behind the counter.  
A furious woman raced into the flat and stopped in the middle of the room.  
“So, he really is back then? What does it mean for us?” John just looked at her.  
“You didn’t answer my calls or texts. So?” Still John didn’t answer. She looked at Sherlock. Then she snorted and focused back on John.  
“When may I expect you back home, John?” Both Mary and Sherlock looked at John.  
“John is at home right now.” Suddenly it was Sherlock speaking, very quietly though, but she heard him.  
“What? We are engaged! We are going to marry!” Her eyes slanted.  
“We solved crimes together. We shared life and death. I love him. Deal with it.” Beads of sweat stood on his forehead and he had to hold on to the counter’s edge.  
John just stared at Sherlock. Mary stared at Sherlock, too. Then she turned to John and quickly moved up to him.  
“I am expecting you home today. If you won’t come home until noon, you’ll find your belongings in front of the door. I don’t care. Make your decision and talk now.” John looked from Sherlock to Mary and found her really close. He slowly made two steps back.  
“I’ll be at your place around noon to pick up my things. Don’t bother carrying them outside.”  
“Oh, I just would have opened a window, dear.” She wickedly smiled.  
“Don’t you dare and damage my stuff.” She quietly snorted, turned around and left the flat. The door slammed close behind her and John slowly exhaled with his eyes closed.  
“John?” A very small and weak voice made John move fast. He caught Sherlock the last minute before he could fall.  
“Come on, Sherlock. Sit on the sofa.” Sherlock was pale as death and breathed raggedly. John placed him on the sofa and covered his body with the blanket. He sat down by his side and felt his pulse. It was weak.  
“Are you in pain?” John asked and elicited a weak smile.  
“Not anymore.” The reply made John smile, too, and he kept holding his hand for a while. Both men just quietly sat there and looked at each other.  
Finally, John looked at his watch. He stood.  
“I need to safe my few belongings. Are you OK to stay by yourself or do you need me to call Mrs Hudson?” But Sherlock shook his head.  
“Don’t worry, John. I’ll just go back to bed and sleep until you are home.”  
“Can’t wait.” John helped him back into bed and covered him with the blanket. He waved good-bye and left.

***

When Sherlock woke it was dark outside. At once he felt joy and happiness. John was back and he loved him, too. He returned his feelings. He listened into the flat but could hear nothing at all. Very slowly and carefully he got out of bed and went into the kitchen and then into the living-room but John wasn’t in. Why wasn’t John here? He just wanted to pick up his things and come back. So where was John?  
Sherlock called his mobile but only got the mailbox. He gnawed on his lips. He was worried. This woman Mary, she had been furious. Had she hurt his John? He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to look into her file and now there wasn’t any time. He called his brother who answered after the first ring.  
“Sherlock, how are you?” Mycroft asked.  
“Actually, everything worked out perfectly. John and I will be together again. I mean, really together.”  
“Oh, but that’s splendid, isn’t it?” Mycroft really sounded excited and happy for his brother.  
“Yes, but this morning this Mary woman appeared in our home and she was furious. She wanted him back and threatened to throw all his things out of the window if John wouldn’t come home. He told her he would be staying with me. He went to get his belongings around noon and I went to bed again. I just woke and he isn’t back. I am worried, Myc. Could you check on him, please?”  
“Did you read her file?” Mycroft sounded worried now, too.  
“No, not yet. We were busy talking and John checked all my injuries.”  
“Well, just let me tell you that she is a dangerous woman. John seems to be drawn to dangerous types. Anyway, if she went after him, he would have had a hard time, believe me. I’ll check CCTV right away and send Anthea to pick him up.” Sherlock felt much better.  
“Thank you, Myc. Please call me as soon as you know anything at all.” Sherlock quietly begged.  
“Of course. You stay right where you are. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, OK?” Sherlock sighed.  
“It’s hard not to.” They hung up and Sherlock sat down in front of the TV. A few minutes later he got up and made tea and found some cookies, too. And half an hour later his brother came to see him. Sherlock sensed bad news and just looked at him.  
“Please sit down, Sherlock.” Sherlock paled but did as being told.  
“What happened? What did that bitch do to John?” He looked at his older brother.  
“I am not sure yet. Mary Morstan told Anthea that John never showed up but CCTV showed something else. John did enter her place but never left.”  
“What are you waiting for? We have to get him!” Sherlock wanted to get up but fell back with a groan holding his stomach. Mycroft at once was by his side.  
“I will take care of everything. We have to be very careful. Read her file and you will understand why we can’t just rush in. Just trust me to arrange everything necessary, OK?” He seriously looked at Sherlock.  
“I know I am not capable of helping in this matter. It hurts too much. What if she did something horrible?” But Mycroft shook his head.  
“No, she won’t because she wants him back. If she is up to something horrible, she would do it to you, believe me.”  
“Well, now I am so relaxed.” Sherlock was back to his stroppy self but it made his brother smile.  
“I already called Gregory. He will be staying with you. I personally will take care of John’s safety.”  
“I don’t know what I would do if she hurt him.” Mycroft looked at him.  
“Oh, I know perfectly well. I can assure you that he is still alive.” Sherlock looked up at him. He still was a bit slow but then his eyes widened.  
“You had him chipped, too?” Mycroft nonchalantly shrugged.  
“The moment he had moved in and decided to run around with you it was done. He never knew.”  
“So, you know where he is?” Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, I do. She was lying. She did something and I will find out as soon as Gregory is here.” The door was opened the same moment and Lestrade came in.  
“I hurried as fast as I could and I really wish I could come with you.” He said looking at Mycroft.  
“So do I.” Sherlock said.  
“Both of you know it’s not possible. You, Sherlock, are too weak. Gregory, I can’t have you lurking around my secret ops. You are Scotland Yard. You can’t know. Don’t you see?” He had moved up to him and gently caressed his face with his fingertips. Greg sighed.  
“Of course, I do see. But still …” He shook his head looking rather angry.  
“I need you here. Please look after my brother and see that he doesn’t do anything stupid or hurt himself.”  
“You know, I can hear you talking, don’t you?” Sherlock asked a bit angrily. Mycroft just raised his brow.  
“See you soon, Gregory.” They hugged and Greg hesitantly let go of him. Mycroft moved over to Sherlock and hugged him, too.  
“I’ll get him back. I promise.” Sherlock hugged him back but didn’t react otherwise. Mycroft quickly left and Greg focused on Sherlock.  
“How are you doing today and you know exactly how I mean it.” Sherlock had just wanted to make a snarky remark but refrained from doing so. Instead he smiled.  
“I am better than yesterday. John came by because Mrs Hudson called him to chat about my return. We didn’t have the intention to let him know so soon but then it was too late. When he dashed in here, he was quite angry. But I finally admitted how I felt and so did he. He stayed and took care of me, made me breakfast in the morning. Then his fiancée appeared because he didn’t go home or even called her. The rest you know.” Greg grinned.  
“I lost my bet with Sally.” Sherlock raised a brow.  
“What bet?” Greg grinned even more.  
“She was convinced that John would punch you very hard right into your face after your return.”  
“Probably a lot of people thought the same including Mrs Hudson, by the way.”  
“I didn’t. I knew John was in love with you.”  
“Did he tell you during one of your football events in the local pub?” But Greg shook his head.  
“No, it was obvious. The way he looked at you, he admired you. He is your number one fan, Sherlock.”  
“I never saw …” He shook his head.  
“For once you didn’t, no.” Sherlock looked at Greg.  
“I would like a drink, please?” Sherlock begged. Greg just raised a brow.  
“You know, you don’t have to use your puppy eyes on me. I am already used to Myc’s.” Sherlock smiled a bit lopsided.  
“I never would have guessed, you know? I mean you and him? It seems I have been rather blind to my surroundings.”  
“I thought he needed some comfort after you have jumped.” He changed his voice when saying jumped and Sherlock cast his eyes.  
“He only told me yesterday and I almost punched him in the face. Only I didn’t.”  
“I assume he explained the reason why we had to do this?” Greg nodded and sighed.  
“Yes, he did. We are good, Sherlock. I do understand.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“I am glad to hear that, I really am.”  
“Would you like to have dinner? I could cook something?” Greg asked.  
“Yes, please. Something with pasta, if possible?” Greg checked through the cupboards in the kitchen.  
“No problem at all.”  
“I’ll take a shower now.” Sherlock got up and very slowly moved towards the bath.  
“Do you need help, Sherlock?” Sherlock stopped and looked over his shoulder.  
“If you could tape me up again? John said to be careful.”  
“Sure thing. Where is the kit?” Sherlock pointed to the bath and Greg helped him. He had seen him almost naked or even completely naked before. Normally he would have at least blushed, but now he was just as shocked as John had been when looking at Sherlock’s tortured body. Carefully he disinfected everything and bandaged everything anew.  
“There you go.” Sherlock looked at his non-existing stomach.  
“Thank you.” He stood and got rid of the rest of his clothes. Greg just left shaking his head. He closed the door and started to prepare dinner.


	3. Rescue Mission

On his way back to his place with Mary, which was actually her place, John’s head was almost empty. The only thing he could think of was Sherlock. Sherlock was back. His prayers had been listened to; the miracle had been granted. A stupid smile was on his face and several people just smiled back.  
He used his key and inside he took it off his key-ring and placed it in the bowl sitting by the door.  
“Mary?” He called out because he was able to hear her rummaging somewhere. She was probably throwing his things into a box or something like that. He entered their living-room and saw he had been right. A box was halfway filled with his medical books.  
She looked up and came over. She looked into his eyes.  
“So, this is it? Dead man walking appears and you leave me? Have you even ever loved me?” John felt bad.  
“I did. I somehow do still love you but …” She straightened up.  
“I was just a replacement; I see it now.” She sounded sad but not angry anymore.  
“I am sorry. Let’s do this like grown-ups, OK?” He asked very quietly and she just nodded.  
“Of course, we both are grown-ups, aren’t we, John? Let’s have a drink and talk about organising things, please?”  
“OK.” John was more relaxed now. He had expected something else but was glad she wasn’t throwing his things at him. Instead she poured wine into two glasses and handed him his. He took it and both of them clinked glasses. John sipped his wine while they talked about dividing their possessions.  
After a while John felt very tired. He shouldn’t have drunk the wine at this hour. He wasn’t used to it. His eyes drooped and he sank back into the sofa.  
“Mary, I …” The last he saw was Mary’s grinning face hovering above him.

***

John slowly woke and everything around him was dark. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He tried to move but couldn’t. He couldn’t even think properly.  
Suddenly there was a voice. Who was talking to him? He knew that voice. It was Mary. What about Mary? Something happened. He couldn’t remember. He tried to concentrate on her voice. He tried to ask for help.  
A hand was pressed on his mouth and she spoke again. She didn’t sound nice.  
“Shut up, John. This is what you get. You tried to leave me and it just can’t happen.” Her voice faded away and John fell back into the darkness.  
Mary looked at John’s body. She had moved him into her basement after the drug had taken effect. She was stronger than she looked and managed quite well. She had undressed him. She had also tied his arms and legs with a washing line. And since she knew what John was capable of, she had also connected the washing line to the wall. She also had used an old collar from a long-gone dog around his neck to tether it to the ground.  
She was really pissed because he found Sherlock worthier than her. John really had insulted her by choosing Sherlock over her. It just can’t be.  
Now she would show him what he wanted to let go, what he would miss when leaving her. She would show him what she could give him what Sherlock couldn’t. She grinned wickedly and kept staring down at him.

***

Anthea made the first step and rang the bell at Mary’s flat. She looked all innocent but wasn’t. Mycroft watched her over CCTV. The door was opened and Mary appeared.  
“Yes?” Anthea smiled.  
“I am here to pick up Dr Watson. I was told he was at home. He is needed at the clinic rather urgently.” Mary looked at Anthea with a worried expression on her face.  
“Oh, I am so sorry. He was not feeling well and I sent him home to Baker Street in a cab hours ago.”  
“Oh, I see. Thanks so much!” Anthea turned around and left. Mary’s eyes followed her.  
“Nurse my arse.” She muttered and closed the door. She wondered if she should move John to another place but decided against. No one could ever prove that he hadn’t left as she had stated. The police had no reason at all to search her place and they wouldn’t get a warrant on such thin proofs.  
Of course, Mary didn’t know about Mycroft and Anthea and their profession. John had never told her because he knew what secrecy meant. He swore an oath to his country.  
“And when I am done with him, he will never get these sorts of ideas again. He will stay with me forever.” She giggled and collected some stuff from their bedroom.  
Downstairs John was awake by now. He had realised his position and was baffled. How could Mary have done this to him? OK, he had left her for Sherlock but she had poisoned him and tied him up in the basement. And she bloody well knew what she was doing because he wasn’t able to get out of his restraints.  
His shoulder already hurt due to his forced position on the concrete floor and it was very cold. He was naked for God’s sake. He shivered and kept thinking of Sherlock. He would know that something happened and alert Mycroft. He just needed to wait to be rescued and talk Mary into believing he would return to her. Whatever it will cost, he would do it.

***

Sherlock was done in the bath and sat at the kitchen-table watching Greg cook. He stared at his back and waited for Mycroft to call or even to just bring John back but nothing happened. Finally, Greg was done and placed a bowl with pasta in front of Sherlock.  
“There you are. Please eat. You need your strength. Do you need to take any meds?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Thanks. I am hungry. I know. The pills are on my nightstand.” Greg sighed but stood and got them. Sherlock devoured them with water and then dug in. Greg really was surprised.  
“I know that I am too thin right now for my own taste. I want to get healthy again. Plus, I need brain-food.”  
“Sounds good to me, Sherlock.” They ate in companionable silence until Greg’s mobile dinged with a text alert. Sherlock looked up and stared at him. Greg checked his mobile.  
“Nothing so far. They have located a warm body in the basement. Anthea checked on it when she rang the bell. Now they are checking the premises.”  
“Why can’t they just go in? I don’t understand the hesitation.” Greg seriously looked at him.  
“Let’s look at her file together. I will explain everything and you will see why.” When they were done Sherlock did in fact understand. She was dangerous. He never would have thought.  
“Jesus, she knows about torture and stuff. She is a trained killer.” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, but John is trained in hostage situations. He will cope. He also knows her and will know how to act properly.”  
“You mean he would submit to her?” Sherlock looked absolutely shocked.  
“If his life depended on it? Yes, he would. He absolutely would.” Greg nodded and tried to assure Sherlock of John’s safety.  
“But what if she makes him do things, what if she hurts him?” Greg placed his hand on Sherlock’s.  
“She may hurt him, yes. But she won’t hurt him too much. She doesn’t want damaged goods; she wants him back.” Sherlock looked unbelievably sad.  
“I can’t stand this. I finally came home to be with John and now he is gone.” And he started to cry. Greg was a bit shocked because he hadn’t expected such a reaction from Sherlock. But then he got up and stood by his side. He pulled him up and into his arms.  
“Hey, don’t cry, OK? Mycroft won’t let any harm come to him or you in this case. You have to trust him. And John. He knows how to act, believe me. He is a fighter, a soldier, and perfectly capable of handling this situation.” Sherlock sobbed.  
“I miss him so much, Greg.” And now he hugged back. Greg stood stock-still for a few seconds because he wasn’t used to that at all coming from Sherlock.  
“Come on, let’s sit for a bit and have a drink. Then I will tug you in again, OK?” Sherlock just nodded and went to blow his nose. They sat on the sofa and Greg provided drinks. Due to his lack of weight and the meds he was taking Sherlock went under quite quickly. Greg just picked him up and carried him over. He already wore his pyjamas beneath his gown and he pulled up the duvet. He left him a bottle of water, too, and returned to his place on the sofa but now he switched on the TV. He also was a bit worried because Mycroft hadn’t called yet.

***

Mary had collected some things. She had cleaned everything very thorough and also even polished some items. These were instruments of torture but they also could be used as instruments of joy. It would all depend on John’s reactions on how she would be using them.  
She knew he was in severe pain by now. She also knew how much he could take and that he had been a soldier. Actually, he still was. She smiled. After a long time, she would be having some fun again.  
She carried all her wicked toys downstairs and stepped up close to his shivering body. He didn’t react so she kicked him against the thigh. He groaned and woke. He blinked his eyes open and their eyes met.  
“John, you know why you are here?” He carefully nodded.  
“Yes.” His voice was very rough. Mary raised a finely made brow.  
“You could show me a bit more respect, John.”  
“Yes, mistress, I do know why I am here.” She smiled.  
“Very good. Why are you here, John?” John licked over his chafed lips and cleared his throat.  
“I am here because I deserve to be punished. I mistreated you. I left you for no good reason.” She lowered her head.  
“And?” She sounded very dangerous.  
“Nothing.” There still was some stubbornness inside John and she grinned. She had hoped so.  
“Oh, but I think there is a big “and” here. I also think I have to show you.” She went down on her knees and shoved a big ball-gag into his mouth. John’s jaw cracked and the edges of his mouth tore. She buckled it very tight.  
“Before you could say something really, really stupid, you see?” She grinned and ruffled his hair. He tried to turn away but couldn’t.  
“I want you to think about doing the right thing. I’ll give you plenty enough time and hopefully I will be hearing the right words.” She got up again and looked into his eyes. John still looked very resilient, she thought. She finally turned around and left him behind again. This time she let him alone for more than an hour. She also switched the lights off so he was completely in the dark.  
John’s brain worked over-time by now. Until now he could stand this. He knew they would come and get him. He wasn’t sure about Mary. What was she up to? What would she do to him? They only ever had vanilla sex. The toys she had brought downstairs, he had never seen them before.  
He tried to see this from his soldier-self. He had been in hostage situations before. He even had been tortured. This was nothing different. Well, it sort of was because Mary was his fiancée. He tried to find a better position. His saliva had dried on his chin and he couldn’t prevent the drooling. He still was freezing and his shoulder hurt like fuck.  
He tried to think of something nice, he started to imagine Sherlock. He would be together with Sherlock. He was in love with Sherlock. He closed his eyes even it was dark. And he smiled around the ball-gag.

***

The light was switched on again and Mary hopped down the stairs. John opened his eyes and saw her bare feet.  
“I believe you had plenty of time to think everything through. The position might have helped. So?” She took off the ball-gag and his cramping jaw relaxed.  
“What do you expect me to do?” John’s voice was very rough. She took his chin between her fingers and held on tight. It hurt.  
“I want you to say you are sorry. I want you to beg me for forgiveness.” John pressed his lips together.  
“Oh honey, don’t worry. I will make you scream for forgiveness soon enough.” And she laughed.  
“At first though something you will surely miss if you won’t choose correctly.” She knelt close to him and tenderly took his prick. John hissed but didn’t move.  
“Oh, I know what you like and I will make you enjoy it. Forget that stupid prick and focus on me.” John closed his eyes and thought of Sherlock but she slapped him.  
“No, John, look at me while I am doing you. Look at me!” She sharply ordered and he obeyed. She looked pleased and gently pulled his cock up. She also alternately fondled his balls and soon enough John’s body betrayed him. He became very hard making her laugh.  
“Oh dear, I knew it. I didn’t know you were into bondage though. If only I knew!” She laughed again and John fought very hard not to react stupidly.  
He was done when Mary licked over his head and pressed her tongue into his slit. He roughly shouted once and came all over her face, chest and hands. He panted and looked up at her. She stood and didn’t wipe it off.  
“So, what do you say?” He was helpless like this and he needed to hold out. So, he just said what she wanted to hear.  
“Thank you, Mary. Mistress.” She widely grinned.  
“Good boy.” She disappeared upstairs to wash up a bit and just left him behind. He looked at her back until the door banged close upstairs. Again, he thought of Sherlock and wondered what he was doing right now.  
His shoulder hurt so much that tears ran over his face without him really noticing.  
Mary gave him exactly the fifteen minutes she needed to freshen up. Then she cheerily hopped down the stairs again.  
“Now it’s your turn. You have to return the favour.” John just looked up at her and swallowed.  
“But don’t worry, I will help you!” She rolled him on his front and hooked something into the ropes. Then she took a remote and pressed a button. Slowly John was lifted up. And if he thought his shoulder couldn’t hurt more, he had been damn wrong.  
Mary lowered her panties and pressed her cunt into his face. She also fisted his hair.  
“Now go on. I know you are very good in doing this because you did it before. It’s much better than sucking cock, believe me.” She laughed like the bitch she was. How could John have not seen?  
John knew he had to do this. And afterwards he would thank her and beg her to loosen the restraints. He needed to get out of this to get back to Sherlock.  
So, he started to suck her clit and lick her out. Soon she groaned and moaned. He knew it was real when she pushed her cunt against his face. His tears mixed with her cum and her pubic hair scratched over his facial hair. She finally came and rubbed her fluids all over his head and face and chest.  
“That was very nice indeed. What do you say?” Again, she fisted his hair to make him look up.  
“Thank you for letting me pleasure you, mistress. Please don’t hurt me anymore.” She grinned.  
“Very well done, dear.” She walked around him and grabbed the remote again. She lifted him high up and bound his cock and balls. She tethered the rope to the floor and pulled it tight.  
“Now I am going to punish you for what you have done to me.” John didn’t beg her to stop. He just pressed his lips together. She dangled an even bigger ball-gag before his eyes but he didn’t open his mouth. She brutally dug her fingers into his bad shoulder and he screamed out his pain. She just shoved the gag inside and buckled it as tight as possible. Tears fell and he started to drool again. Then she pushed him against the hip and he started to swing. He thought his cock would be torn off and he kept screaming and shouting.  
This was different from the torture he had to endure in Afghanistan. This really got to him but he had to hang on. Plus, he thought about what his training officers had told him. Every torture was for the same purpose. It didn't matter if you knew the person who did it or not. They always wanted to have something and it didn't matter what. You just had to hold on. And he tried exactly to do that.  
Mary didn’t speak anymore, she just showed him the implements of pain. She started with a bamboo cane and beat his feet ten times each. John could only sob and his body jerked.  
“And to finally show you how it feels to get fucked into your sweet behind, I’ll leave you with this.” She forced apart his cheeks, dug her nails into his flesh and spit on his hole. John quietly cried. She forced a large dildo into him and she did it very slowly with hard pushes and twists. She made him wail. She also made him piss because of the pain.  
“Now you may think again!” She used the cane to strike once over his arse and he lost his consciousness.

***

Anthea stared at the of her tablet's display when Mycroft Holmes entered the office. She looked up and said:  
“We need to act quickly. It seems we underestimated Ms Morstan. Dr Watson’s body temperature has reached a dangerously low level.” Mycroft raised a brow and looked at the numbers, too.  
“Bloody hell. What is she doing to him?” He touched his nose and Anthea just waited.  
“Sherlock wouldn’t survive the loss. We need to go in. The next time surveillance tells us she is upstairs alone we’ll do it.”  
“What about the arrest?” Anthea asked.  
“What arrest?” Mycroft asked back and she just nodded and made the troops go. Several cars rode up to Mary Morstan’s place but parked not too close. The people in the cars didn’t wear any police gear or whatsoever. They got their “Go” and knew what to do.  
The moment Mary was on their monitors and obviously upstairs the first pair entered through the back-door. They secured the front door and the stairs. The second pair hurried downstairs to free John Watson. Outside six more men watched the premises and stopped everybody from passing by.  
In the meantime, Mycroft jammed the mobile lines so no one could reach Mary and tell her about the activities outside.  
A sniper was placed on the roof opposite her bedroom window. The moment he had clear sight he was allowed to kill her. The monitor though showed her warm body in the bed which he couldn’t look in from his position. He waited.  
Downstairs in the meantime the two men looked at the bound body of John. He was bleeding and he had soiled himself. His cock was badly chafed and so were his wrists, arms and legs. He was unconscious.  
They checked for an alarm but there was none. One man secured the door and the other freed John. He took off the gag at first and used the remote to carefully lower his body on the floor. He cut off the washing line with an army-knife and John groaned when the blood started to flow again. Now the man stared at his bound cock and swallowed. He carefully used a smaller blade to cut off the strips. It made John whimper.  
He gently rolled him on his front and finally pulled at the dildo. It was hard to get it out and he threw it to the side. Blood ran out of his behind. He quietly spoke into his headset.  
“We need an operation-team asap. Badly injured hostage. Several severe wounds on groin and feet. Too low body temperature. Are we clear to go?” He listened.  
“Not yet. Woman not yet gone.” The two men waited. The one kneeling by John’s side got rid of his jacket and draped it over John. There was no reaction.

***

John woke when he felt hands move over his body. It didn’t hurt though. He tried to open his eyes and blinked into a light. He saw a man holding a penlight to his eyes and then his pulse was taken.  
“What …” But the man shook his head.  
“Please stay calm, Dr Watson. You are free and on your way into hospital. We’ll take care of you.” John desperately blinked several times and knew he had been severely drugged. His head hurt and he felt so dirty. He wondered where Sherlock was. Had he been hurt, too? No, he hadn’t been there in the basement, had he? He couldn’t remember. It became dark again.  
And the next time he woke he saw Mycroft who stood at once and came to his side when he saw John was awake.  
“It seems I am spending a lot of time in hospitals these days. How are you feeling, John?”  
“Thirsty.” John croaked it out and Mycroft held a bottle with water and a straw to his dry lips. John greedily drank.  
“Is Sherlock OK?” Mycroft nodded and John relaxed a bit.  
“Greg gave him something to sleep. He almost became insane because he was so worried. He is at home with Greg.”  
“How bad is it?” Mycroft shrugged.  
“I believe you still will be able to make my little brother a very happy man.” Both men smiled a bit lopsided but it was enough for John.  
“File?” Mycroft sighed but handed over the file for John to look at. He studied what had been done to him. He swallowed and felt sick.  
John estimated a few days in hospital and he should be able to go home again. He needed Sherlock. He never asked about Mary.

***

The pills Greg gave Sherlock were too weak and Sherlock talked him into taking him to hospital to see John. Finally, Greg gave in and called Mycroft. Then he bundled up Sherlock into warm clothes which he loathed but Greg insisted. So, Sherlock appeared in warm running tracks and a hoodie in John’s room.  
Sherlock stared at John’s body and he wished he could have killed her himself. Greg let go of him when he moved forward. Mycroft came over to Greg and placed his arm around his shoulder.  
Sherlock carefully took John’s hand and sat on the bed. John’s head moved over the pillow but he didn’t wake. Sherlock lifted the duvet and climbed into bed by John’s side. Mycroft wanted to stop him but Greg just shook his head.  
“He won’t do any harm. Both of them will sleep like babies because they are both drugged and tired. Let’s just sit here, love.” Mycroft sighed and texted Anthea. And since this was a first-class hospital there was a comfortable sofa and he huddled close to Greg.  
Sherlock moved as close to John as possible. He didn’t want to hurt him or got punched into his stomach when he moved. He dared and pecked a kiss on his cheek. He felt brave. John smiled but still didn’t wake or speak. Sherlock moved under the blanket to find a better position and he found the file. He started to read and paled.  
What had that bitch done to his John? He wanted to take revenge but he didn’t even know if she was still alive. He hoped not. John surely would survive this and his body would heal. But what about this mind and soul? They were both damaged somehow and Sherlock knew it.  
Their love to each other would help them.


End file.
